


(Red) String Theory

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takao can't believe it, until he does. Midorima gives him an ultimatum with a kiss, and they challenge fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Red) String Theory

In a parallel universe somewhere awfully far away, this probably makes sense. The rules of logic probably don’t apply in that strange world, so there’s nothing stopping something like this from happening there. But right here, right now, outside of Midorima’s gate, late afternoon in February, it’s the most bizarre thing Takao can even think of, vivid imagination or no. Because here, where it’s obvious that he’s him and Midorima is _Midorima_ , it defies all laws of reason for Midorima to kiss him full on his mouth.

He probably displays his shock rather well, gaping and freezing in place, when Midorima pulls back. Frozen and forced to stare at Midorima’s much too pretty face, Takao watches realization wash over him; reality catching up, at last, probably reminding him as well that this is not that weird parallel universe where things like this can happen.

Hesitantly, without looking directly at him, Midorima says: “Takao, I apologize.”

It’s much too hasty and he turns to leave before Takao manages to unfreeze, and the gate slams shut, the door slams shut, and Takao is left out on the pavement with an open mouth and no sounds daring to leave it.

Eventually he has to come to terms with the fact that he’s living in this real world and there is a real world explanation, even if it seems so farfetched his mind doesn’t dare venture there. He goes home deep in thought and pushes away all the parts of the puzzle which are too uncomfortable to piece together, even though he knows it would give him a clearer image.

He checks his phone every ten minutes but he doesn’t send any messages, though his finger hovers over “Shin-chan <3” in his list of contacts for a few dreadful seconds. The warmth from the uncanny kiss doesn’t linger, but he touches his lips like he remembers the feeling.

Even though he’s the fun loving sort, the adventurer who loves to cross uncertain terrains and explore, the kind of guy who sticks around when things get tough and itty gritty, he realizes that he’s shaking. His mother has called him down for dinner but he remains on the floor in his room, sitting in front of his bed with his head through the ceiling. He can’t focus properly, doesn’t want to focus, but he can’t just ignore it all, no matter how tempting escapism sounds. Will he be able to greet Midorima in the morning, smile and banter, after the way he made Midorima leave? Will he be able to stand close to him on court, without remembering an awkward and nonsensical kiss?

No, that’s the only answer he arrives to, at all of his unscientific and correct assumptions. All the scenarios he runs through his mind come to the same conclusion and he starts to get annoyed by Midorima for changing everything like this without even talking with him about it first. Though maybe a verbal explanation wouldn’t have helped with the aftermath, and Midorima must have figured that it would feel better to change, than to remain stagnant.

Takao groans in frustration and his little sister pops her head into his room to tell him to shut up, since she’s studying. Their mother calls them down for dinner again but he ends up reheating it at 10 in the evening, when she’s resigned to her study, and eating it in his room.

He continues to check his phone until he realizes that he’s starting to become quasi-insane. Again he contemplates calling, for when he’s in doubt, it’s always nice to hear Midorima’s voice. There is much to be said about what sort of person he is, and Takao is sure that Midorima has heard the worst more often than his best, but for all of his eccentricities the one thing Midorima is not is insecure. It’s a bit admirable, Takao has always found, how he can keep a straight face at most all times and believe so strongly in everything he does. Selfishly, Takao has borrowed that strength from time to time, but this isn’t the right moment to do so, is it?

The surreal scene from just a few hours before replays in his mind. He sees Midorima close the distance between them and wordlessly kiss him, so tentatively and innocently, yet more affectionately than anything else he can ever recall in life. Then Takao remembers the aftermath, Midorima’s slow realization, and his painful resignation. Picturing it again makes Takao grab a pillow and groan into it, letting out a wail like muffled noise.

And Midorima apologized. If they were at the club, everyone would have been stunned. They’d want it recorded, they would tease him about it, they would assume he’d been replaced by a weird, parallel universe version of himself – but Takao’s mind has already gone down that road, and he knows that it’s wrong.

The pieces start to arrange themselves against his will, going against his explicit thought order. He thinks about going to school, about being in school, about playing basketball, about going home, about spending his weekends not with several friends, but a singular one. His body pretty much moves on its own accord by now at the words: “Let’s go, Takao”, said so often that they have become less demanding, and more like a matter of life. Of course he’ll come with Midorima, wherever he wishes to go. Why wouldn’t he?

He thinks about stretching together and sharing a bath, and making joking yet complementing comments in the locker rooms about Midorima’s looks. He thinks about the times they are separated and he goes looking at wherever Midorima’s wandered off to, calling “Shin-chan” until he’s told by said person to be quiet and cease the familiarities, without meaning either of those things.

Quests for lucky items – a few so tedious he knows Midorima has to be making the specifics up just to spend more time with him – and lucky items he’s received. He wonders when Midorima started checking out Scorpio’s Oha-Asa rating, but by now he doesn’t question why.

In middle school he sure had tons of friends, and there was never a lonely day. With Midorima, there’s never a dull one. He’s traded all of his classmates for this one person – elevated him beyond them – and maybe it’s not just a case of Midorima being his best friend. Maybe it’s a case of Midorima being his something else.

It’s been so long since he’s spent so much time with someone, but he doesn’t recall any other friendship where he’s smiled this much. He doesn’t recall anyone he has relied on so much – and even less so does he recall someone depending on _him_.

The Midorima Shintarou he used to think was out of reach for everyone somehow became the Midorima Shintarou he spends all of his time with, completely within his grasp.

Takao has moved to his bed, lying flat on his back, as his mind swirls with uncomfortable truths. He isn’t sure why he’s rejecting the idea so thoroughly, when Midorima has already done his part, but he recalls that face he made after the kiss, and he can’t imagine how _he_ ’s feeling now. Because of Takao and his stupid denial and petty self-deprecation.

In an instant, Takao sits up again messing up his hair in frustration as he realizes what he’s done. Wallowing in his own confusion, rather than check on Midorima – he’s really the worst, isn’t he?

A phone call isn’t enough. It can be denied and cancelled, and ignored for as long as pride allows it to be. Instead, at eleven on a weekday, Takao grabs his keys and jacket to head out, and bike his way over to the Midorima household. His bicycle has a broken light so he relies on street lamps and luck as he plunges through the darkness, avoiding strangers and the edges of the road as he hurries.

Six, nearing on seven hours he’s left Midorima to his own devices, focused only on his own feelings. But if Midorima is miserable, then what’s the point of even figuring those out?

All the lights in the house are out when Takao parks the bike by the gate, and he knows that ten minutes ago, Midorima must have already lied down; perhaps he’s fast asleep already. But Takao doubts it, and if he’s wrong, at least he can ease Midorima’s mind and take it off nightmares.

Climbing the fence with ease, he sneaks around to the side of the house. He finds gravel on the ground and picks up the smallest, preferably avoiding causing a ruckus.

Takao performs the cliché as he throws the gravel on Midorima’s window, flinging three pieces before waiting for a response. The silence which lingers is highlighted by the sound of a car driving past the road, and just as he thinks to throw another, or climb the pipes like a real professional, the lights are on in Midorima’s room, and the window is opened.

Midorima isn’t wearing his glasses yet as he stares out from the second floor, and the distance makes it hard to read what sort of face he’s making. Yet despite his poor sight, Midorima guesses correctly when he says, sounding startled and terribly lonesome: “Takao…”

“Yo, Shin-chan,” Takao says. Immediately berating himself for sounding so casual in Midorima’s time of need, he quickly adds: “Can you come down? We need to talk, and you’re not gonna be able to sleep before we do, anyway.”

Midorima stares down at him, but his gaze doesn’t seem heavy or intimidating in the slightest. He gives in and closes the window, so Takao walks back to the front of the house and waits by the steps. Not a sound can be heard from within, not in this majestic soundproof house, so he anxiously moves from one leg to the next in silent anticipation.

By the time the door opens, he’s pretty sure that he’s worn holes in his shoes, but those useless worries disappear soon enough. Midorima has changed out of his pyjamas into his casual clothes, but he seems disarrayed, hair out of place, and with red eyes. Has he been crying?

What transpired earlier still doesn’t make much sense to Takao, but it doesn’t really have to. What he wants to say come easily this time, and he reels back his desire to act rashly, like Midorima did earlier, in favour of conversation.

“About earlier… I was pretty shocked,” he says. “And I still don’t think I… understand. Why you did that.”

Midorima swallows and tries to hide it by bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, but it doesn’t escape Takao’s gaze.

“It seemed… appropriate. At the time,” Midorima confesses. “I have thought it over though now, and it seems I acted wrongly.”

“No, no, it’s not…” Takao sighs, and wishes that things could go smoothly for once in this odd, disorganized evening. “I just…” But expecting Midorima to talk about his feelings first is a fool’s errand, so there is nothing to do but gamble.

Taking a deep breath, he makes eye contact properly at long last and says: “I didn’t think about you like that, or rather, I didn’t think I did. But like you say… I thought it over.” He laughs at nothing in particular, a nervous giggle. “I think that I might be in love, or something. Crazy, huh?”

“Takao…”

“And I probably wouldn’t have realized it before you went and did that, so it’s a good thing, okay? Ah, but then I went and messed up by taking so much time to get my head in order… and I caused you to lock yourself into your room and cry.”

“I didn’t cry!” Midorima lies, his tender look from a moment earlier easily replaced with flushed cheeks and mock anger.

Takao smiles unceremoniously, ignoring the outburst. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

He’s hesitant to put his arms around Midorima’s shoulders, but he’s met halfway, and their real first kiss is tame and timid, yet somehow so long it seems profoundly deep. Takao wouldn’t mind hearing a proper confession, and in a few days he’ll say the magic words as well, but on this point, he won’t push Midorima into it. He can already tell how he feels about him, from the way Midorima kisses him.

 

 

A few days later, when things are less new and less strange, and all the more exciting, he asks Midorima why he chose that day. Out of all the days of all the weeks of all the months of the entire year they’ve known each other for, why did he kiss him then, so randomly?

“Let me guess,” he says, walking alongside his boyfriend with a teasing, indulgent smile. “Oha-Asa said that we had the best compatibility? Your lucky item was a kiss from a beloved?”

“Of course not,” Midorima denies, huffing even though the suggestion seems far from ludicrous. “You don’t remember what you said before I did that, fool?”

The pet names haven’t stopped, rather increased, already in their relationship.

Takao shakes his head, saying: “Nope. I kind of blacked out for a bit.”

Midorima huffs again. “You told me to be more… You said that I listen too much to fate. So I wanted to do something extraordinary.”

Takao’s mind wanders back to his previous hypothesis about parallel worlds, wherein Midorima Shintarou chooses Takao’s words over Oha-Asa’s, and he grins so wide his cheeks hurt as he ponders the significance. This isn’t another world after all, but reality, a new and changed one with a boyfriend and sneaky kisses and slowly forming words of affection, all just as real and important.

They walk home side by side and hold hand occasionally when Takao manages to grab his and Midorima doesn’t pull apart until there is a witness, blushing and believing he can hide it with a high pulled collar. They kiss outside of Midorima’s gate when they are separated, Midorima’s arms around his back and Takao standing on his toes so he can be kissed more deeply.

It’s all terrible logical, and rationally wonderful.


End file.
